for when we mean
to say nothing?
Curious
how the winnowing
of choices
appalls us
when it comes, but never
leaves us furious.
Just as the hub
of the spinning wheel
lacks motion,
at the nexus of all feeling,
where no expectation
or desire is detected,
perhaps even concepts
like distinction
lack a difference;
of course, it's
a moot point, since
in the end, it isn't—but
that last gasp for expression
could be said
to be either
nonexistent
or unlimited.
